


Curry Favour

by hedoro



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedoro/pseuds/hedoro
Summary: After years of being together, he still wasn't used to Uruha’s penchant for sudden professions of love.Or: Aoi's sick and whiny, and Uruha's a dumb jerk.





	Curry Favour

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the title of this is bad pun. i hate myself. also, i'm so sorry about not updating hdwh. i know it's been months. i'm working on it, but progress is super slow for various reasons. hopefully i'll have an update out by next month maybe? RIP. thanks for sticking with this idiot right here. i appreciate it so much. ♥

The door slammed shut with a loud bang. It shook the apartment and let in a rush of bitterly cold air with it. Aoi shivered where he sat, tucked up nice and cosy on the couch.

The view from the living room windows showed a blanket of white as flurries of snow were whipped up in violent clouds and tossed around on the wind. With winter upon them, he would be damned if he went out in it any time soon. Especially since he’d caught the flu.

He sniffed and rubbed his eyes. So cold despite being wrapped up in two blankets and a thick cable knit jumper. Though, those extra layers were only in place because Uruha insisted upon it.

Uruha had also insisted on, courageously, going out in search of food with which to restock the kitchen. But that was only after he’d rooted around in the cupboards for something warm and filling to eat, and found them bare.

Aoi's stomach rumbled at the thought of food and he hoped that Uruha had brought home the ingredients for curry after he'd politely requested they have it for dinner. He was fed up with eating forgotten ramen packets and soup.

A warm curry would take the edge off the cold of winter and help unblock his nose.

He fidgeted with the blanket while he waited for Uruha to walk into the living room but after another minute, he let out a huff of air and rolled his eyes, impatient as ever.

Where the fuck was Uruha?

Aoi snuffled loudly and wiped his nose on the cuff of his sleeve. He then pulled his comforter tight around him and moved to get up from the sofa.

The world swayed on its axis and he lurched forward. It was a taxing job, the action required much more effort than it normally did. His bones ached and his skin tingled all over, sensitive even to the soft jumper he wore to keep himself warm.

Standing on two legs was a chore, stumbling through the hallway toward the genkan even more so.

The floor called to him. It urged him to give up as his vision swirled. In cahoots with the floor, it lied to him about how close he was to the ground. He managed to catch himself on the wall just in time and wheezed, breath catching in his throat. The barking cough that followed hurt and his lungs cried out in pain.

His body sloped away from the wall at an odd angle while it tried to accommodate for his lack of balance. With his head still spinning, he stayed leaning against the wall much like the famous tower of Pisa.

Aoi heaved a ragged breath once more and then gave up. Annoyed with how weak he felt, he slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes and waited. In a rumpled pile of blankets, he sat there against the wall, exposed and cold, vulnerable like a vagrant on the streets.

He closed his eyes and frowned as another wave of nausea swept through him. He hated being sick. It sapped his energy from him and made him feel useless.

“Aoi?” Uruha called out from around the corner. His gentle voice sounded even quieter than usual—muffled and unsure, worrying over nothing.

Aoi gave an undignified grunt in answer to let him know he was alive and well, all things considered.

A moment later Uruha padded into view as he struggled to take off his thick winter pullover. Aoi chewed the inside of his cheek and allowed a lopsided smile to form. Could Uruha be anymore adorable?

Not even the hair plastered to his head, wet from rapidly melting snowflakes, and his fingers, red and frozen from the cold, put a damper on the soft smile Uruha gifted him while his head was stuck in the jumper’s too-tight neck hole.

Aoi grinned. “Do I need to cut you out of that thing?”

“Is that another attempt at getting me naked?” Uruha countered and rolled his eyes. “I wouldn't need cut out of it anyway if someone hadn't washed it on the wrong setting.”

Aoi looked away and huffed. “It was an accident.”

“I know,” Uruha said in a muffled voice as he finally managed to pull the jumper over his head. A little breathless, he added, “I'm just messing with you, Aoi.”

Aoi nodded. “I know,” he whined, “but I still feel bad over it though.”

“It's just a jumper, Aoi. Build a bridge and get over it. Better yet, knit me a new one if it bothers you so much,” Uruha replied as he dumped the knitwear over the radiator and went back to where he came from.

Finding no reason to respond, Aoi chose to sulk as he waited for Uruha to return.

He closed his eyes against the dim light in the hallway and let his head rest against the wall. Everything hurt all over and the light only added to the headache pounding away inside his skull.

The crunch of paper bags startled him and he jumped.

“You okay?”

The sight of Uruha haloed in yellow light and holding two bags of groceries in his arms tugged at his heart.

“I am now. My saviour,” he choked out like some dying soldier on a stretcher with his chest ripped wide open and shrapnel embedded in his lungs.

Uruha rolled his eyes. “It’s just food, Aoi. You don't have to stare at me like I'm the second coming of Christ.”

“Don't talk about food that way,” he cried out and winced when his voice gave way. It cracked sharply under the strain of swollen tonsils.

“Oh, how horrible of me. I am so sorry for hurting your precious girlfriend’s feelings,” Uruha deadpanned. He frowned a moment later, only just taking notice of Aoi’s predicament. “Why the hell are you out here on the floor, anyway?”

“Nice of you to finally notice. It’s a long story, and I'm lazy,” Aoi said and gave Uruha the most charming smile he could muster. Paired with a runny nose and red eyes, it probably looked more pathetic than cute.

Aoi pouted when Uruha raised a disturbed eyebrow at him.

“Fine, the short version is that I tried to come greet you at the door like the adoring boyfriend I am and gave up halfway because I couldn't go on.”

“That’s nice,” Uruha said, sarcastic as ever, “but can you un-give up and go grab the last two bags of groceries? You're sick, not dying.”

Aoi huffed and reached his hand out. “What if I was? What if those were the last words you ever said to me?”

Uruha placed his bags on the floor and helped him up. “Eh, I guess I'd have to live with it,” he replied simply and snorted. “But you wouldn’t because you'd be dead.”

Aoi glared at him and gathered up his blanket around him before teetering off to get the last of the shopping, muttering a quiet “asshole” as he went.

Uruha laughed softly and picked up the abandoned groceries. Once in the kitchen, he began to put everything away.

“I love you, too, brat,” he called out over his shoulder as a bag of potato chips sailed through the air weakly, past his head, and crashed to the floor.

Aoi huffed from somewhere behind him and shuffled into view. “I’m not a brat,” he pouted. “I'm just neglected by my boyfriend.”

Uruha grinned and turned to face Aoi. “Neglected? Don't lie, babe, your ass is the least neglected thing in this apartment.”

Aoi blushed and wobbled on the spot. “Shut up, asshole.”

“I think I like it when you're sick, you're so much less catty,” Uruha said as he took the last two grocery bags from Aoi’s arms and moved over to the cupboards to put away the items they held.

Aoi wrapped his arms around himself and sneered at Uruha’s back. “If you want something docile and soft, why don't you go put your dick between a woman’s thighs?”

Uruha winced at the vicious tone in Aoi’s voice, knowing that he'd hit a nerve. “Aw, but babe, you're all the woman I could ever need.”

He turned around after putting away the final can of soup and smiled shyly.

“All jokes aside, I like how snarky and volatile you are. You're emotional, and passionate,” he said softly and walked over to Aoi, slow and steady, unwavering as Aoi stared at him silently, full of a sullen attitude.

Once in front of him, Uruha cupped Aoi’s cheek and brushed his thumb over Aoi’s lower lip. “You’re gentle and soft some days, and a violent wave of feelings rushing over me the next. And I love every bit of you, from your sensitive heart and insecurities right down to the your stupidly annoying habit of kicking me in your sleep.”

Aoi floundered, unsure of what to say or do. After years of being together, he still wasn't used to Uruha’s penchant for sudden professions of love. He forgot to breathe for a second.

And then he coughed and spluttered, and ruined the moment completely.

“Same time next year, then?” Uruha laughed.

When he had fully recovered, Aoi rolled his eyes and pushed Uruha away. “Stop that, it's weird. I prefer it when you're being an asshole.”

Uruha grinned and shrugged. “Yeah, sure. It totally has nothing to do with how you're a mess on the inside over what I said about you.”

“Shut up,” Aoi whined in embarrassment and reached out to fist a hand in Uruha’s t-shirt. He pulled him closer and rested his clammy forehead in the crook of Uruha’s neck. “I hate you,” he mumbled into warm skin.

Uruha kissed the top of his head and rubbed his hand over Aoi’s back in soothing motions. “Hate you, too. Now, let's get you back into bed so I can work on not neglecting you.”

Aoi smiled and let Uruha guide him to their bedroom.

Once he was tucked up in a myriad of layers, Aoi peeked out from under the covers. “Come keep me warm until I fall asleep? I promise not to kick you too much,” he croaked.

Uruha laughed. “I don't think a promise is gonna protect me from those tree trunks you call legs but sure.”

Aoi groaned and rolled his eyes. “Like you have room to talk, gorilla legs. Now, get over here and love me or I'll leak pictures of your hairy thighs to the fans.”

“Pft, they already know about Ruki's armpits, I doubt my leg hair would shock them.”

Aoi grinned. “Well, in that case, I'll just leak the photo of you sporting a beard while dressed up as Sailor Moon.”

“Damn it, I knew that would come back to bite me on the ass some day,” Uruha replied as he slipped under the covers and wrapped an arm around Aoi’s midsection.

Aoi yawned and snuggled into the heat of Uruha’s body. “That would be true,” he mumbled, “if you actually had an ass to bite.”

“I can't even argue with that,” Uruha said and laughed. “My ass is flatter than IKEA flat pack furniture.”

When he received no answer, Uruha peered over Aoi's shoulder. Sure enough, Aoi had fallen asleep. Careful not to disturb him, Uruha gently manoeuvred Aoi into a more comfortable position before slipping out of their bed.

After making sure the covers were tucked up around him, Uruha left Aoi to sleep and went off to potter around in the kitchen.

When Aoi woke a few hours later it was to a tray full of his favourite foods and a smirking Uruha. “How's this for neglect,” he stated and placed it over Aoi's lap.

Aoi frowned. “But I asked for curry,” he teased, not about to admit that the delicious food Uruha had made was way better than any packet curry he'd requested.


End file.
